


Careless Heading West

by rubberbandman



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Escapism, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Nick Carraway, Jay Gatsby Lives, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Jay Gatsby, On the Run, Pining, Road Trips, i havent done an OUNCE of proofreading, just for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberbandman/pseuds/rubberbandman
Summary: okay this is basically an AU where gatsby decides to leave new york city after myrtle's whomped by daisy (sorry myrtle) and nick tags along because they're in love or whatever. i KNOW, gatsby leaving new york before daisy did is ooc but I DONT CARE this is my fic and i want a ROAD TRIP!!!!this fic is the result of the realization that i can write whatever i want. its gonna get very cute and very gay, just you wait!!! just you wait!!!!!!i may write chapters out of order but i'll fix it later. sorry!!
Relationships: Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	1. New York City

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! each chapters gonna be named after (vaguely) where they are
> 
> sorry abt any historical inaccuracies or overall inaccuracies about locations etc. i've never travelled cross country but i can dream.,, here we go.
> 
> enjoy!

I stared up at the large, semi-circle-arched window of Gatsby’s room from my own living room, clutching beige, dust-ridden curtains. A light or a lamp was on inside, I could see the warm light reflecting off mahogany floors, leaving soft orange on the white window pane. It was a heavy-clouded day that morning, dreadfully humid and thick in your throat, like breathing in molasses. The leaves of the trees around the bedroom window blew gently in warning of a horrid storm. 

Gatsby was upstairs at that moment, I thought. I hoped he was pondering what I told him yesterday, though I’d miss his smoldering presence on these dead streets. His glow had died anyhow, with Daisy’s truth shown and Myrtle’s blood on the pavement. He’d have to disappear with no trace if Gatsby were to follow my advice. Move to some city west, hopefully not Chicago. It would be hopeless for me to ever find his once-alight spirit amongst the deep-smogged expanse that is this country. There would be no point. My purpose to him, with Daisy nearly out of view, had ceased, gone with the tide of yesterday, my hopes gone with Gatsby’s.

As if my hopes would come to fruition. I sighed and closed my curtains, sitting on the couch that reeked of a long-ago stranger. The antique smell ached my head and the gentle, emerald glow of the banker’s lamp across the room bored into my sight. This wasn’t home. I’d never thought to return to Minnesota, but I considered it then, reluctantly. Returning to my hometown, though it felt far from my heart now, felt preferable to staying in West Egg. Explaining to my father that his investment in my trip East was, after all, a waste of time would be a problem for another day. New York had lost its glow.

Gatsby was the city’s glow, after all. Not the gold of his mansion from dusk until dawn, or the glamorous exterior of his guests in spinning dresses and fine suits. Jay Gatsby himself was New York’s ceaseless light, its sacred fire of Vesta. At least to my New York. 

I wouldn’t leave yet. I wanted to stick by Gatsby’s dying light; to see where he’d go or if he’d ever glow again. That was merely a dream, though. Gatsby glowed for Daisy, or, rather, his idea of her. He wouldn’t find another, far too loyal to this fictional woman that occupied his mind. Gatsby would glow for no one. 

Especially not me. 

I was sinking in my thoughts again. Groaning, I wiped the beginnings of tears on my sweater sleeve and poked my head through the curtains again in a perverse, saddened hope I’d see him there.

And there he was, wearing the same pink suit as last night. It hurt my heart to think he hadn’t the motivation to change out of it to sleep, or sleep at all. I backed up slightly, so only the tip of my nose poked through the curtains. Surely he couldn’t see me.

I followed his eyes to find they were set on me-- or my window, rather. He looked slightly disappointed, so in a certain panicked longing, I grabbed the curtain and tore it aside, the drapery rod clanging harshly over the soft sound of the leaves outside. Gatsby’s back quickly straightened as I did so, tousled hair bouncing back into his eyes. He offered up a weak smile as a greeting, which I returned in a perhaps weaker one. My chest tightened, prickling and aching from beneath my ribs. I worried my eyes were embarrassingly glassy or red, despite being at such a distance that it hardly mattered.

He was doing this out of politeness, he hadn’t been expecting me. The poor fool had no idea how this was affecting me. I convinced myself similar things as he suddenly began making a series of odd hand gestures. Tilting my head, I tried to wordlessly communicate that I had no clue what he was trying to tell me. The ache of my chest subsided slightly at this, a more genuine smile replacing my fragile one.

‘What?’ I mouthed, shaking my head and accentuating a shrug. 

Gatsby paused and disappeared for a second, coming back with a quite large suitcase. I sighed, my smile fading. He pointed to it, and then pointed to the garage that hid his dented Rolls Royce. Understanding, I gave him a thumbs-up. 

I was glad he was taking my advice. He’d be safer that way. I smiled and waved to him and turned from the window before my emotions got the best of me. I worried it may discourage him if I looked upset at this news. I wasn’t, truly. It was the best news I could have received. I’d say goodbye to him, if he stopped by. If not, I’d let him go. Gatsby didn’t need to know how dearly I’d miss him. He’d be made uncomfortable by it. Who wouldn’t be?

Though I’d never see him again, I still thought it foolish to tell him my feelings. Wherever he’d end up, I wanted him to remember me in fondness rather than disgust, if he’d remember me at all. I wiped my eyes again, the woolen threads feeling course against my eyelids. 

I realized the unsteadiness of my breathing and began to focus on steadying it again in preparation for Gatsby’s potential last visit. As much as I hated lying to him, if I let my emotions spill all would go awry. I’d settle for being remembered as “just a friend”, but, please, nothing less. 

My thoughts were halted by the sharp honk of a Rolls Royce outside. I ran to the window to see Gatsby in the driver’s seat of the automobile, in a white suit and tie the color of a canary’s feather. He was parked in front of my walkway. The front bumper was clean, but still damaged from the hit.

I paced for a moment before I stood behind the front door to steady my breathing again. I fixed the collar of my shirt and swung the door open, running out to meet him.

“Where are your bags, old sport?”

I simply raised an eyebrow, speechless. He stared back at me, raising an eyebrow as well.

“I beg your pardon?” I stammered, wringing my hands out. All of my anxiety was replaced with confusion and, strangely enough, excitement.

“Your luggage! We’re driving west, remember?” He said, as if we’d been planning this trip for months. 

“We?” I scratched my head, an array of questions coming to my mind, “You want me to come with you?” for whatever reason felt the most important of the bunch.

Gatsby looked slightly deflated at this, “Well, yes,” he looked down at his steering wheel nervously, “I thought that was your plan. To leave the city with me.”

I could’ve sworn I never said that. I never would have said that-- why in the world would Gatsby want me to drive cross-country with him? 

“It’s alright if that wasn’t what you meant, old sport. I understand if you want to stay in the city. You have your business to attend to, and Jordan, of course, and-”

“No, Gatsby,” I said, more firmly than I expected, “I have nothing to attend to here. Let me pack some things and I’ll be right out.”

Running into the house, I slammed the door and immediately went to my closet. I kicked a beaten leather suitcase out from beneath my clothes, unzipped it, and began folding the essentials from my closet to pack.

I was totally in the dark about how in the world Gatsby thought I was coming with him, but it didn’t matter. As impulsive as this decision was, I didn’t care. Why couldn’t I leave the city like some careless rich? I had much less luggage than any person of overwhelming wealth, nor had I harmed anyone or anything. I’d be leaving without a trace. They wouldn’t miss me at work, they’d easily replace me. Plenty need work. And Jordan wouldn’t miss me, not for a second. I revelled in the thought for a moment. The escapism of it seemed like something of a dream. Not to mention I’d be with Jay Gatsby the entire time. A dangerous circumstance, but an irresistibly tempting one as well.

I folded a blanket and took what I needed from the bathroom, as well as some foods from the kitchen, a notebook and a pen, and small sentimental things I’d brought east from Minnesota. I pulled the beaded switch of the green banker’s light, leaving the house in gray, post-storm darkness. 

Looking for anyone crossing the street, I rushed out to Gatsby’s Royce and opened the trunk, shoving my things in with his. He had packed a surprisingly small amount, considering his surplus of belongings. I shut the trunk and opened the passenger’s door, sitting beside Gatsby. He peered for a second behind his house, at the dock, where he’d gaze at the green light across the bay. I almost forgot how hard this decision must have been for him.

Gatsby shook his head and cleared his throat. He started the car decisively. 

“All packed and ready to go?” He asked, eyes meeting mine. 

“I think so,” I said, crossing my fingers I hadn’t forgotten anything in my excitement, “Are you? You sure don’t have a lot packed.”

Gatsby shrugged, “I suppose I don’t need most of what I have,” he smiled lightly, “and I wanted to leave some space for you.”

I smiled, my chest tightening with a different sensation than before, “There’s still some room… I mean, all those books, all your clothes… I’m sure there’s some things of importance you’re leaving behind, no? It’s okay if I have to leave a blanket or two behind-”

“There’ll be no need, old sport. I brought a few books,” he cleared his throat, “for you… You seemed to like them quite a bit, and I thought it a good way for you to pass time…”

I thought for a second I’d lose control right there. He thought of me while he was packing his things and packed things for me. He packed things for me to do! I released my surprise and joy in the form of laughter.

“Oh, no, Gatsby, you didn’t need to do all that… I mean things of sentimental importance to you!”

He seemed to think for a moment in silence, driving slower than usual.

“I don’t have much. Everything left behind I’d doubt I’ll miss.”

I gaped at him in shock.

“What?” He asked in reference to my expression.

“Nothing at all?”

“No, not really. I mostly brought clothes… and whatever else…” he swallowed hard, “I want to leave all of my life here behind.”

I could hear his heartache at that moment. He turned the radio on and gave his attention to the road. 

“Have you any idea where we’re going?” I finally asked, after a beat of radio-filled silence.

“A vague idea. But don’t worry, I know where to go right now.” He turned out onto the open road in a rather wide swerve that forced my shoulder against the car door. “Lincoln Highway. We just have to get to Times Square and out of the city as fast as possible. We wouldn’t want to be spotted by somebody who's heard about… who was it that Daisy… ran into, again?”

“Myrtle Wilson.”

“Right,” he sighed.

“Would it be smarter to take my Dodge? We still have time to turn around and I wouldn’t mind taking the wheel-”  
“Nonsense, old sport. You don’t need to do that. We’re all packed already, anyway, and I’d doubt the rumor spread that fast. We’ll be alright.”

I bit my tongue. I had my doubts, especially about his statement regarding rumors… but I said no more.


	2. Carlisle, PA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ooo there shall be,, confessions,,,,, gatsby is an oblivious bi disaster and nick finds out he’s not as good at hiding his feelings as he thought. that or his cousin is very observant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s chapter 2, two months later!! ahaha,,,  
> i would say i was busy but i wasn’t i just hate my writing rn. and this thing is fucking gargantuan, i dont know why i wrote that much. hope you like it though uh

We’d passed through Trenton and then Philadelphia some two hours ago, made it through New York without trouble around four and the sun was beginning to near the horizon behind the trees. We’d spent these hours idly talking, as we’d do on certain nights back in New York. Those nights when I’d be awoken by the ringing of my phone a room away— called to sit with Gatsby at the edge of his dock. I’d always get dressed for the slim chance he’d look at me for more than a split second the whole night. He’d always stare at that green north star of his as he’d ramble on about his travels, his feats during the war, and, of course, Daisy. I’d listen, pausing to react in short phrases or sounds to remind him I cared to hear every word.

However, this time our roles had reversed. Gatsby left me to guide the conversation for nearly the entire drive. I didn’t have nearly as many stories as he did, seeing as I’m far less interesting, but I tried my best. He’d watch the road in an absent-minded way, as if he were imagining the green light there, deep in the center of the highway. I was beginning to feel like he didn’t want to talk to me, which didn’t make much sense. He could have easily left me behind in the city, but, instead, he seemed to sincerely want to bring me along. 

Prompting him to tell his own stories was far easier than telling my own. He told me of the Santa Cruz Boardwalk amongst other things and people he had met. All of them I, by now, could tell were simply his dreams put in past tense, but a part of me still wanted so desperately to believe him. I dreamed of him as he spoke, amongst palm trees, rubies, or in the trenches, reenacting his Odyssey in my mind. I’d look at him every so often to remember the curve of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the way the golden strands of his hair dangle down over his eyes before he combs them back again…

Visualizing him was always easy. It felt as if I’d been picturing him even before this summer. He was my image of near-perfection. Still, I felt the need to gaze upon his features and remind myself of them again.

Realizing just how long I’d left the conversation void of anything Gatsby could take and run with, I drew myself out of my thoughts. There was something else off about our exchanges.

Daisy. Her name had never been spoken, not once. This wasn’t exactly a disappointment on my part, but Gatsby never went six hours without at least mentioning her. I didn’t expect him to try to move on this fast.

I looked over at him, watching as the wind blew his hair back. Not wanting to hurt him, I quietly began, making sure to speak over the wind, “You know, I’m sorry about all this, Gatsby.”

He didn’t answer for a while. It may have only been seconds, but my nerves had convinced me it had been much longer.

“Jay,” he said simply.

“Huh?” 

“Please,” he nearly muttered, “call me Jay.”

“Oh— I’m sorry… I’ll drop the formality.”

“And second,” he raised his voice, “stop apologizing.”

I fought the odd impulse to apologize one last time for apologizing so much. Oh, I felt breathtakingly stupid for it. I wanted to swallow my tongue. I bit down on the tip of it instead, having no readily available response rather than, ‘sorry for saying sorry.’

“If you feel guilty somehow for what happened, you shouldn’t.” There was a frustrated genuinity in his voice. 

“Well…”

“No. Don’t continue that thought.” Jay spoke firmly, wrinkling his nose as he passed a slow-driving Nash. He was never this blunt with me, nor anyone else, for that matter. 

We’d passed onto flatter lands with cornfields on either side of the road. The sun was no longer masked by the treeline. Jay seemed to stare into it now— and no longer seemed as if he were visualizing the green light. His mind was somewhere else now, but I wasn’t sure where. 

That’s when he turned his head to look at me. His eyes were intense when they met mine. He looked like he was thinking, beating back something in his mind. Blinking, he sighed and returned his eyes to the road. 

“I need to thank you, old sport.”

I chuckled, both in confusion and at his usage of “old sport”, even after he told me to use his first name. 

“To thank me? For what?”

Jay glanced at me for a second, eyebrows pushed together. “Are you thick? Where have you been?” he scoffed, then quickly redirected himself, “Sorry—“

“No sorries, Jay.”

He relaxed a moment, laughing softly, “That rule is specific to you, old sport. Because you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“That’s not true.” If only he knew my thoughts of him.

“It is too!” 

I shrugged and said, “It’s not,” childishly, hoping to bring levity to the situation. Jay seemed tense.

It made him laugh a bit, though exasperatedly. I smiled to myself. Success.

“You haven’t let me finish what I was going to say yet!” he reached over to the passenger’s and shoved me playfully, returning his hand to the wheel afterward. “I want to thank you. For…”

He looked blank for a moment and I worried he actually didn’t have anything to thank me for. He began rubbing his eyes. 

Then, he sighed, “Oh, everything… Everything you’ve done since June, old sport. I mean that.”

I must’ve looked confused. In truth, this made me feel more guilty. I must have manipulated him into thinking I was some kind of saint.

He began to explain again, “On the drive, before Daisy hit Myrtle Wilson, she and I had a conversation that made me… think.”

“Oh, did you, now?” I propped my head up in my hand, elbow on the door of the Royce, “What’d she say?” 

Jay squinted, biting the inside of his cheek. “Well,” he paused, thumbs rubbing the steering wheel, “she said— uhm— well, it made me think to thank you, old sport. It made me realize how much I owe you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, you don’t owe me anything! After this drive I’ll owe you hundreds for gasoline, anyway.” I joked, knowing he would never accept my money. 

“No, that’s…” he swallowed and shook his head, “not what I meant.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, quite confused. He hadn’t responded as brightly as I had hoped. 

But what did he mean? I hadn’t done anything for him— at least not enough to elicit that response. I scratched my head and thought of changing the conversation. I was feeling guilty again.

Jay had no reason to feel grateful in the slightest for me. I’m disgusting for not distancing myself from him. Too indulgent, too close. I feel as if I’m putting him in danger whenever I look at him. I’ll never act on my feelings, but the existence of them alone is enough to disgust Jay, or anyone, for that matter. Of course, Jay knows nothing of my mind, and I’d continue to take advantage of his obliviousness. To long and listen and care for him in his worst moments, not in the way a saintly man would, but in the way a lovestruck fool would. 

And he truly believed I was staying by his side out of kindness alone. Laughing hollowly to myself, I squeezed my eyes shut. I was grossly infatuated. My care for Jay was beyond that of friends.

I should have stayed home for his sake. He’d never be interested in me, let alone a man. He loved Daisy. Days ago, he breathed for Daisy. In New York, I never crossed his mind as anything more than a makeshift therapist. 

“Old sport?” I heard from the driver’s seat and looked up from my lap.

“Hm?”

“... Nothing.”

———————————-

We’d remained silent until dark. It was surprising— conversation usually came easy between the two of us. 

My thoughts were making it difficult to continue. We hadn’t even made it through a single night of driving and I already felt too close to Jay, as if I were somehow violating him just by being in his presence too long. Of course I basked in his light nonetheless, but I felt like a leech. 

The moon in the rearview mirror snapped me from my thoughts. Half of it was faded into the still-blackening sky, the outline of it still slightly visible, as if through tinted lenses. I remembered Gatsby’s pink suit this morning— he surely hadn’t slept last night. I found his eyes still fixed on the center of the road. The back of the dress shirt he’d worn underneath his white suit was alight in the creamy aura of the moon. His jacket had fallen between the seat and his back, his yellow tie loose around his neck.

“Jay—“ I said with sudden urgency, his hands jolting at the wheel, “Surely you’re exhausted… let me take the wheel for the night.”

“No, no, no… There’ll be no need. I’m not at all tired,” he shook his head, “You can rest, I’m sure you’re tired, old sport—“

“Oh, nonsense, I’ve just been sitting here, watching you all day,” I sat up, “I want you to sleep. I brought blankets, too, if you’d like them. They may not be Egyptian silk, but… I think they’re quite comfortable.”

“Actually, I brought my own blankets that just happen to be pure Egyptian silk— oh, but I want you to use them! You sleep, I’ll let you take the wheel sometime later.”

“You’re unbelievable, Jay! I’d doubt you’ve slept in the past twenty-four hours!”

Jay thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel sequentially, counting hours. He sighed and shook his head, “Well— I stay up overnight often! That just means I’m more adjusted to it than you are. You could fall asleep at the wheel!”

I laughed, Jay beaming at me beautifully as I did, “That’s ridiculous! If I’m going to fall asleep at the wheel, you’re going to go unconscious!”

“I’d never, I’m an attentive driver.” He said, looking back at the road immediately.

“Now, you know that’s a lie,” I scoffed, Gatsby chuckling under his breath, “Besides, no one’s an attentive driver after they’ve been awake for well over twenty-four hours.”

“Oh, now I’ve been awake for well-over twenty-four?”

“Alright, pull the damn car over,” I said, as assertive as I could manage. I wouldn’t sleep until Jay slept. 

He swerved into a narrow road in a field of rye, putting the car in park in the center of it. The tips of the grass brushed against the car doors with a soft ‘swish’ whenever the wind blew. 

“What? You want to get out and settle this, old sport?” Jay joked, throwing his fists up as a kidding threat.

“No,” I felt laughter bubble up in my throat, “I have a proposition.”

“Fist to fist, old sport, right now!”

“No! You and I both know you’ll win!”

“Oh, don’t be so sure! You have a good chance—“

“Listen. I’ll sleep, but only if you sleep, too. If we drive to the next town over, maybe we’ll find someplace to stay. A hotel or an inn, or something similar.”

“I’ll accept your proposition, but only if I drive.” He crossed his arms. 

“Jay—“ 

Before I could say anything more, Jay threw the car in reverse, straight into the street, and turned around to keep heading down the road. 

———————

We exited at the very next town, a small town called Carlisle. Driving through rows of conjoined businesses, houses, a train station, and apartment buildings, we found nothing but the neon glow of a restaurant that looked as if it were once a bar. Perhaps now it was a speakeasy.

Jay pulled over next to the sidewalk, in front of the tavern. The street was completely empty, void of streetlights or wandering people. A single lamp in front of the tavern burned yellow through the wings of flitting moths. It highlighted Jay in a muted amber as he turned to me.

“I believe we’re out of luck, old sport,” he spoke low, as if we’d disturb the people within the dark apartments above.

“I believe so, too— it seems nothing’s here. I was hoping for a hotel…”

“I suppose we could sleep in the car…?” 

As much as I’d rather sleep in a bed, any bed, Jay needed rest. Looking for a place to stay would only exhaust him more, and he seemed to be growing impatient.

I nodded, “That’s our best option right now, I think. We have plenty of blankets, and out of town we may find a quiet place to pull off…”

Jay sighed and started the car, driving out of the tavern’s light. The town faded into fields of corn again, on rolling hills upon hills. These fields were surrounded by dense forests of closely-packed trees. No farmhouses were in sight.

We pulled onto a place in the road where the shoulder was widened slightly. When the Royce’s headlights went out, we were swallowed by the darkness. I felt safer, somehow. No one would find us out here. 

As my eyes adjusted, I could see the tips of the corn that surrounded us, brushed by moonlight. They quivered in the chilled summer breeze, falling in and out of the white light.

“It’s quiet here,” Jay sounded relieved, too.

“Yes,” I answered, “It’s nice.”

We found each other's eyes for a moment. It was a warm exchange— Jay’s eyes were soft, appreciative. He opened his mouth to speak, but laughed at nothing in particular instead. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he left whatever words unsaid. I couldn’t guess what was on his mind, and couldn’t help to wonder if he had feelings for me, similar to the ones I had for him. The gesture seemed to have a feeling of nervousness I had come to be quite familiar with. But any lovestruck mind would wonder such things. 

Though then would be as good a time as any to confess those feelings. I’d never planned to ever tell Jay— Daisy was simply too big an obstacle, and as much as I loved him, I wanted him to be happy. Now there was nothing— Jay only had me.

Besides, he deserved to know. Living by his side while he cared for me, oblivious, felt perverse and selfish. It felt as if I was taking advantage of him by keeping him close and hiding my true desires. 

I had all the time in the world to tell him, too, but as he averted his eyes and fiddled with loose strands of hair beside me, I felt as if something needed to be said. The whispers of the bristling corn and the katydids demanded someone break the heavy silence.

“Jay, I—“

“Nick—“

We stared at each other again, waiting for the other to continue. The echo of my name in his voice rang in my head pleasantly, my heart feeling lopsided.

I cleared my throat, losing what newfound courage I had, “Sorry about that— please continue.”

“No, no, please, you first—“

“It was nothing important,” I lied, folding my hands in my lap, “Just was going to ask… how many blankets you brought.”

“Oh, I couldn’t decide which you’d feel most comfortable using, so I brought four,” Jay smiled, nervousness showing through his gritted teeth.

Feeling my face flush, I was thankful the sun had set hours ago. “Good, good… that sounds like plenty… Now— um— what were you saying?”

“It was nothing of importance either, old sport… Really, nothing— I can get the blankets now if you’d like.”

My heart began to race, “No!” I tried to calm myself as quickly as I could, “No… It sounded important. I really don’t mind listening, I’m not that tired.”

Jay looked panicked, “You really wouldn’t want to hear it—“

“Please, Jay,” he’d wound my hopes up far too much to back out. I could feel my heart all the way up in my temples, “I love listening to you.”

I’d said that rather impulsively— was it too forward? He looked particularly struck by it, finally looking up from the steering wheel.

“Okay…” he sighed, toying with his rolled up sleeves, “Alright. I told you of the conversation I had with Daisy, yes? Well, she brought me to conclusions I would have otherwise struggled to come to terms with… Daisy has since lost the charm she had when I’d met her, before the war. Not in her face, of course she’s as beautiful as the day I left her, but in her soul. I believe Tom took it from her. When I’d met her, she had hope. She loved life as much as she loved her wealth, jewelry, me… She wanted to travel, try new things… And she wanted me to be there, by her side for all of it. But now all of those dreams are gone. She’s aimless, almost cynical. Tom gives her everything she wants, but he’s taken her free will. And having an affair with me… it gave her ammunition. It was to show Tom she could do whatever the fuck she wanted— excuse me, old sport. Daisy loved me, that was true, but she sought nothing in loving me. It was just a feeling, she no longer dreamed of us together, like I did. You see what I mean, old sport?” 

I nodded. I always understood this— I’m not sure if it were Tom’s constant domineering attitude or life itself that did this, but Daisy had no aspirations. Her imagination went with Gatsby, to the war. 

“Perhaps it was you who gave her those dreams.” I suggested.

Jay smiled at me. I knew this was true for me— meeting Jay Gatsby gave me inspiration I hadn’t had since my youth. He’s what made me start writing again.

“Perhaps you’re right.” He said, his voice warm, “Thank you.” 

I smiled and nodded again, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. 

“I think that’s why we get along, old sport. You understand.”

“But, about your dreams… They all seemed to include her. Don’t you feel aimless now, too?”

“Well,” he tensed up at this, “that’s… what I was getting to. I’m okay, I can’t deny I’m deeply upset, but Daisy is not all I have. I’ve found my purpose in New York was not to find Daisy.”

My heart skipped a beat. I’m the only person left from his life in New York.

Silence settled between us. Jay looked frantic again,

“I’m sorry— we stopped here to sleep, not talk. I’m running my mouth again—“

“Please, Jay, you’re fine. I love listening to you,” I repeated hesitantly, “I hope you know I do mean it.”

“I hope you do… No one listens to me like you do.”

“Because I care about you, Jay—“ I bit my tongue, hesitantly continuing, “I deeply care about you and what you have to say.”

I crossed my fingers he understood this as a form of care between friends. It was more, of course, but my courage had dissipated since I began to speak.

“You’re the first to genuinely do so, old sport.”

“Really?”

“It’s true,” he said with a twinge of sadness. I fought the urge to embrace him and show him the extent of my care.

It was growing late. I wanted Jay to sleep, but I couldn’t let him until I told the truth. Now that he’d shown such care for me, I felt pressed for time. I couldn’t bear to let it stay within me, yet I dreaded the possibility he would ostracize me for it..

“Jay,” I began, holding my breath for a moment so he wouldn’t hear my voice shaking, “I feel it’s improper I keep this a secret from you any longer. If this puts our friendship in jeopardy, I don’t blame you. I can’t curb these feelings no matter how hard I try.”

My voice had begun shaking halfway through. I couldn’t stop it— my whole body was shaking. I was embarrassed as much as I was terrified. Wishing I’d been stronger for Jay’s sake, I cursed myself and continued,

“I care for you deeply— deeper than two men are allowed, and I understand if it disgusts you. I understand if you want to drop me at the next train station— or drop me here… whatever—.” I swallowed, unable to look him in the eyes, “I love you, Jay. You talk about dreaming and having aspirations and…“ I choked on my words and willed myself not to lose my composure, “I understand you because I dream, too. I dream of you. All the time.”

I regretted it immediately. He looked starstruck. I willed myself not to cry again. He was all I wanted and I lost him— he was gone. 

But then he smiled.

It was like when I saw him smile that very first time, except I was truly the only one in his gaze. There was no party, no Daisy— just me and him in the glow of the moon, inches away from one another, surrounded by miles of nothingness. 

Just like that, he felt within reach again.

“I know,” he mumbled, covering his face with his palms, “oh, but hearing it from you… excuse me— I’m sorry… It’s too much.”

“You knew?” I was astounded. He Knew? From who? Since when? He let me suffer all this time believing he was completely oblivious?

“Well, no— I didn’t believe it,” he groaned, “hold on, old sport, you have me flustered—“

“Jay, don’t leave me hanging like this—“

“Daisy told me!” he yelled from beneath his palms.

“Daisy? I never told her a thing!”

“Well, she suspected it! Oh, she said she could practically feel it radiating from you! She said only you truly care about me and wanted you to have me instead! And… well, she was right, was she not?”

“She was— I had no idea I was that  
obvious.”

“Me neither… I didn’t believe her! I’m sorry, old sport, I just couldn’t believe it… If I’d only took her word for it I would have… I would’ve…” he stammered a bit, “I would’ve done something about it by now!”

He peeked up from his hands to see my reaction. The whites of his eyes caught the moonlight, making him look like a scared animal.

I stared at him for a bit, struggling to believe my ears.

“So you love me, too?” I asked.

“Yes!— well… I don’t know!”

I raised an eyebrow, my heart sinking back slightly.

“I don’t exactly know how to explain my feelings for you, old sport,” he lowered his hands to twiddle his thumbs. I could almost see his flush in the moonlight, “It’s different from how I love Daisy. I love being around you and I always have. That’s why you’re here with me now. I couldn’t bear to think of it— not being able to call you at any given moment and see you. Wanting desperately to see you has become a sort of habit for me. You see, it took an honest conversation with Daisy to realize all this. She said it’s love, and love it may be,” he sighed wistfully, “and… a part of me does hope it’s love. i think i want to love you.”

I smiled so wide my cheeks burned with overexertion. Jay hid his eyes again.

“Well, it’s getting late. You’d best hurry up and do something before the sun rises.”

He tore his hands from his face and stared at me, excitement in his eyes. After he realized he’d exposed his face, he looked a bit more uneasy. It took him some time to lean forward, but when he did, I turned in my seat and wrapped my arms around his neck, letting the tips of my fingers under his shirt collar. Hands shaking, he held my waist. He muttered a quick, “Is this okay?” and I answered with a nod and, “It’s perfect.”

He touched his lips to mine in a chaste kiss. His lips were dizzyingly soft, but he pulled away before I could feel much more. It wasn’t much, but it was the first kiss I felt I genuinely enjoyed. It was the first kiss that made me want more. 

“Sorry… You see, I’m still a bit nervous,” he said, his eyes downcast, falling on my lips.

“That’s okay,” I sunk my hands down further beneath his collar to rub at the skin of his back, “I am, too.”

Jay whined and leaned his head down on my shoulder. “I haven’t been in a real relationship since Daisy. Or had any real feelings attached to anyone.”

“That’s okay. We have all the time in the world.”

“Thank you, old sport.”

We let the hum of the katydids and the cicadas fill our silence again. I listened to Jay’s breaths in my ear, shutting my eyes for a moment to take it in. 

As many women as I’d gone out with on and off, nothing felt as right as this. Jay Gatsby made me realize what it was to love someone. As he nestled into me, I reminded myself of his tired eyes.

“How about we sleep now? We’ve put it off far too long. You’re probably tired enough to pass out.”

Jay groaned childishly into my shoulder, “I’d rather not move from my place here.”

I began rubbing his back with my thumbs again, smiling so much my eyes were nearly closed, “Come on, I’ll get the blankets.”

“Fine, then,” Jay lifted his head and let go of my waist, “When you return, I’d like to hold you.”

“We can arrange for that,” I said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He smiled, sitting up straight as he watched me exit the vehicle and grab one of his blankets, a deep red, velvety one, or us to share. 

Jay had eagerly moved into the passenger’s seat of the royce to hold me in his lap. As we cocooned ourselves in the velvet blanket we deemed it too late to change, kicked off our shoes, and undid our belts (for comfort’s sake). Tenderly, he undid my bowtie and unbuttoned the very top of my shirt to softly kiss at my neck and collarbones until he fell asleep, with his head still in the crook of my neck. Soon enough, I fell with him, cozied up against his toned body, my face rested against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if daisy’s ooc i just it would make more sense they talked through things/got some closure before gatsby would decide to leave the city. idk if they didn’t i don’t think it’d be plausible gatsby’d up and leave but anyway!
> 
> hope you like this unorganized mess of a fic.   
> reminder this thing is 100% me just fucking around. so sorry if i screw something up, im really not paying attention

**Author's Note:**

> thankssm for reading!!!!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr (@rubberbandfellow) :)


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